


Valentine’s Day

by captain_americano



Series: Petey and Wadey and Ellie — Oh, My! [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Dating, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Insecurity, M/M, Miscommunication, Romance, Smut, relationships, sequels ain’t better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 00:52:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16149116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_americano/pseuds/captain_americano
Summary: “Stop talking,” Wade breathed, his head falling to rest face-down on Peter’s shoulder. “God, you sweet, clever, precious, silly little raindrop… How could you ever think I wouldn’t want you?”Peter and Wade spend their first Valentine’s Day together.





	Valentine’s Day

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know that today, October 1st, is actually Valentine’s Day in Australia? And that we celebrate with a public holiday in NSW, SA, QLD, and ACT?
> 
> That was a lie, it’s Labor Day, we celebrate V-Day normally, and I just had to start with something more ridiculous than me finally posting this fic roughly 8 months later than I should’ve.

Peter sighed at his laptop as he took his lunch break in the kitchen of _The Daily Bugle._ He’d brought the device to work with him so he could spend his break working on one of his never-ending list of essays to submit for college, but he found himself distracted.

He had been dating Wade for just over a month and things were going… Surprisingly well. Between Peter having had a miserable excuse of a dating life, and his mostly unfounded concerns stemming from his professional relationship with Deadpool, he and Wade had somehow developed a comfortable sense of normalcy almost immediately.

When May had free time to spend with Ellie they patrolled the city together, or otherwise Wade would somehow manage to convince Peter to skip a patrol and they’d all watch a movie, or take Ellie to the park. When they had a moment of privacy, Wade would kiss Peter gently and feed him sweet, cheesy, whispered lines that made his stomach swoop and his cheeks blush.

When they were really, truly alone, Wade wasn’t nearly as gentle as he devoured Peter’s mouth, and ravished the line of his jaw and the column of his neck. He was always silent in those moments, except for the heaving breathing and sound of lips smacking. Wade would hold Peter close, on his lap, or standing chest to chest, tug at his hair, palm his ass, just generally drive Peter wild and then they… Stopped.

Whenever Peter tried to slip his hands under Wade’s shirt, or make a move for his belt, Wade would pull away with a breathless apology, and excuse himself to do some mundane unimportant activity, and pretend nothing had happened. One time he literally went and cleaned all of Ellie’s hair out of the shower drain before bleaching the pipe. It was the most effective mood-killer Peter had ever experienced.

And he didn’t mind, really. He would be just about the last person on Earth to willingly or knowingly pressure someone into doing something they were remotely uncomfortable with, so he’d keep his distance for a while, do some long multiplication in his head while he cooled off, and wait for Wade to come back. Which he always, _always_  did.

If he thought it was what Wade really wanted, he’d easily — hell, he’d _gratefully_ go another twenty-three years without sex as long as it kept Wade happy and by his side. As someone who just never really had time for dating and relationships and sex, he could almost fool himself into thinking he wasn’t missing out, and that if Wade didn’t want a physical relationship that was fine.. But… But he didn’t believe that was what Wade wanted at all, and when he saw evidence to back his theory — big, _hard_ evidence — he couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing something.

“Are you chewing gum? You never chew gum, what’s wrong with you?”

“Jeez, MJ, don’t pull at that thread,” Peter warned, shaking himself out of his daze as Michelle sat next to him. She’d been interning in the marketing department of _The Bugle_ since early last year while she studied graphic design at college. They hadn’t been particularly close in high school, and they still weren’t really, but sometimes they ate together, and caught up for drinks outside of work so they could bitch about their jobs and study.

“Seriously, I’ve never seen you chewing gum before, what’s up?” She asked, opening her Tupperware container full of kale and legumes and other horrible things Peter couldn’t imagine eating. Despite her abysmal taste in food, she was right. Peter hated chewing gum, but lately he needed an outlet for all his pent-up frustration that wasn’t clicking his pen or bouncing his leg. That kinda thing was (rightfully) frowned upon in office culture.

“Nervous tick,” he muttered, running his fingers through his hair with one hand and using his other to snap his laptop shut. He clearly wasn’t getting any work done.

“You know I don’t care enough to ask a third time,” MJ said, viciously spearing a leaf with her fork. Peter glanced around them, but the break room was empty.

“I’ve been seeing someone,” Peter admitted, hesitating over wanting to get this off his chest and being terrified of Michelle’s judgy face. Speaking of which, an arched eyebrow was the only response she was willing to give. “A guy. For over a month, now.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, “do you want me to go upstairs and get Joe to run an article about it? Come on, man, shit or get off the pot.”

“We haven’t, uh, been, um… intimate yet, so, I, uh, wanted to do something special? For — for Valentine’s Day. But I just… I don’t know if he’d be into it, or what he would like,” Peter trailed off awkwardly, avoiding MJ’s piercing stare.

“Is it Spider-Man?” MJ asked blankly, and Peter groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“No! Why does everyone always ask that?”

“You do take a lot of photos of his ass,” she pointed out.

“It’s not — I don’t — not on purpose! He’s just fast, and I can’t always get a good angle when he’s fighting someone because I don’t want to get to close!” It’s half-true. Well, maybe twenty-five-percent true… He has to web his camera up and bring the fight to it — so what if more often than not he happens to be facing away from the camera when the timer goes off? It’s just to protect his identity in case his mask becomes compromised…

“Sure,” Michelle replied, almost like she could read Peter’s thoughts. “What’s he like?”

“He’s, uh, he’s a bit older. He’s got a daughter, she’s a really sweet kid. He is too, actually, he’s like a child sometimes. He’s kind, and he makes me laugh, but I guess he can also be a little dangerous,” Peter sighed, unable to help the embarrassingly dreamy tone he seemed to adopt when talking about Wade. MJ looked unimpressed.

“I don’t know, Parker, I’ve never seen you in a relationship before. You don’t seem like the kinda guy that has any game,” she said frankly.

“Gee, thanks,” he replied dryly.

“But,” she continued, clearly building up to school him, as she’d been doing for nearly a decade, “you obviously got his attention somehow. Clearly you know how to work with what you’ve got. And you’re not the kind of guy to rush into things, I’ll bet you’ve known the guy for a while before you two got together. Use that extra time to your advantage. You’re a smart guy, I’m sure you can figure out _something_ he’d like.”

Peter frowned as he thought about it, and sure enough he did know what Wade liked. Of course he knew — the guy was an open book. All Peter had to do was figure out how to make it work for him, instead of coming off as incredibly lame. Everyone thinks Spider-Man is so cool, but no one, not even Wade, could say the same for Peter Parker.

“That’s… surprisingly helpful,” Peter said, and MJ rolled her eyes. “Thank you. Can I make you my life coach?”

“There is not enough money in the world, my dude.”

 

* * *

 

Sunday lunches with May were still a thing, usually with Wade and Ellie, but Wade had wanted to take Ellie shopping for a new backpack because her old one — that she had well and truly hated — had mysteriously caught on fire. It wasn’t Peter’s place to question what kind of hellion Wade might’ve been raising.

If he was being honest, though, it was nice to have some time with just himself and May. He felt bad, like he hadn’t been making enough of an effort lately, so it was good to get a chance to catch up with her.

“How’s work been?” He asked while he pan-seared chicken strips and May prepared the grilled vegetable salad for their lunch.

“Business as usual with New York’s best and brightest,” she said brightly, but Peter could sense the sarcasm behind her words.

“Sounds like you’ve got a fun ER story you’re holding back,” Peter chuckled, and May winced.

“A construction worked nailed his foot to a beam of wood yesterday,” she huffed.

“You’re joking,” Peter scoffed in disbelief.

“I wish,” she replied mournfully. “He was chatting with one of his co-workers, not paying any mind to the fact he was pointing a nail gun at his foot, and as he was talking he fired off three nails, straight through his foot.”

“I thought they had, like, a catch so they couldn’t be fired without being pressed against a surface?” Peter asked.

“Yes, well, they disabled the mechanism on a few guns to see how far they could shoot them,” she said, sounding disgusted. “Is it any wonder these things happen?”

“So what did they do?” Peter asked, turning the chicken with a pair of tongs, wrapt in her story with abject horror.

“They sawed through the wooden beam and brought him to the hospital with the damn thing still attached to his foot!”

Peter let out a shocked laughed, but immediately cowed when his aunt sent him a disappointed look. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny, it’s just… really strange. Is he alright now?”

“Yes, they removed the nails and he’s on morphine and antibiotics while he recovers. There was some nerve damage so he’ll have to go to physical therapy, but… anyway, how’s your week been, sweetie?”

“No where near as interesting as yours,” Peter muttered, thankful of the fact. “Though Wade and I helped out the bomb squad when they were called to an apartment block near the docks. Apparently they’ve been having some trouble out there with a local crime syndicate setting up shop, so Wade and one of his contacts in the NYPD are gathering intel. Hopefully we’ll be able to make a move sooner rather than later — the device wasn’t sophisticated by any means but it still would’ve done some damage.”

May gave him a concerned look mixed with a half-hearted smile. “God, I worry about you out there Pete, but I have to say it makes me feel better knowing someone’s got your back after all this time you’ve been working alone.”

“Yeah,” Peter smiled down at the chicken, avoiding May’s gaze as his cheeks warmed. “I’m glad I’ve got him, too.”

May spread the salad across two plates and Peter added the chicken on top before taking both of the plates to the kitchen table while his aunt poured two cups of coffee.

“So,” she said, sitting across from him at the table, pinning him with a sharp look, “things are clearly going well for Spider-Man and Deadpool — how are things for Wade and Peter?”

“Good. I think. Why — has he said something?” Peter asked, anxiety shooting straight to his stomach, until May peered at him disapprovingly. “Uh, forget I asked. I’m not a high school kid anymore, I’m an adult. I can have adult conversations.”

“Clearly,” May said, amused. “So?”

“‘So?’” Peter repeated, hurriedly shoving some food in his mouth to stall. May huffed at his evasion tactics.

“So — what’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

No. There’s no way in hell Peter can talk about this with his aunt. But he can’t lie to her either. “I know it’s only been a month, but things don’t really seem to be progressing,” he said quickly, not pausing long enough for her to infer meaning. “I want to do something nice for Wade for Valentine’s Day, but I don’t want put him off because I’m too eager.”

“Peter, honey, you could pull out an engagement ring tomorrow and Wade would have you down at City Hall before you even finished asking the question,” May said casually before taking a bite of her salad, and Peter blushed.

“I’m just… Not used to him taking things seriously. He’s changed a lot since Ellie, but I don’t want…” Peter trailed off, using his fork to push his salad around his plate.

“Peter, Wade would never make fun of you for trying to be romantic. He’s so sweet on you, it’s kinda gross to watch.”

“God,” Peter groaned, wiping his free hand down his face.

“I didn’t know him before Ellie, and I’ve only heard bits and pieces from you about what he was like with Spider-Man, but he transparently adores you, and I know you well enough, young man, to know you feel the same,” May said, fixing him with a stern look.

“What if you’re wrong? What if I’m wrong?” Peter asked, not only referring to attempted romantic gestures, but also… the other thing. Not that May could _ever_ know about that particular topic.

“Did I ever tell you how Ben proposed to me?” May asked, a far off look gleaming in her eye.

“No, you didn’t,” Peter replied softly.

“It was immediately after our high school graduation,” she chuckled softly. “We hadn’t even had a moment to go and see our families, he just took me to my art classroom, where he’d painted the words ‘will you marry me?’ on a large canvas. We’d only been dating for six months, we were just a couple of nineteen-year-olds with no real life experience, but damn if I didn’t jump in feet first and say yes.”

“I bet your parents were thrilled,” Peter joked, ignoring the lump in his throat.

“My parents were fine, they were always free souls… your grandparents weren’t happy though,” May laughed lightly, her eyes twinkling. “Your dad, he supported us from the beginning, and because he was the older brother, their parents trusted his judgement.

“Ben and I weren’t always the perfect couple, but we were never unhappy with our decision. I guess what I’m saying is: don’t let fear and insecurities rule your relationship. You’ll know what the right thing to do is, and when it’s the right time to do it. You’ve always had excellent instincts, so trust them, and trust Wade. Trust, communication, and love are really the only things you need in a relationship. The rest is just semantics.”

“Do you still have the canvas?” Peter asked after a beat of silence.

“The—? Oh, yes! Yes, it’s actually in a storage shed a few miles from here with some other memories. I’ve been meaning to go out and clean it up a bit, but I just can’t seem to make the time,” May said, taking a sip of her coffee, the distant look not yet faded from her expression.

“Let me know when you do,” Peter said, “I’d love to go and see the stuff you and Ben collected over the years.”

“Oh, Peter,” she said, reaching across the table and taking his hand, her eyes shining. “You’re such a good boy. Wade will love anything you do for him, I know it. Should I have Ellie here for the night?”

“Um,” Peter said dumbly, feeling a flush spread all the way from his neck to his hairline. “Ye-es? If that’s okay? Not that we — I mean, I’m not planning—! I just think, uh…”

May’s sharp gaze was back, and Peter shrunk into his seat.

“I’ll take care of Ellie on the condition you finish your date at your place. The master bedrooms of these apartments are adjoining.”

“May,” Peter whispered in horror, wondering if maybe he should just never have sex, ever, at all, ever. He’d be willing to live that life if he could just not have this conversation with his aunt.

“All I’m saying is, you’re two young, healthy, enhanced individuals, and—”

“Please,” He begged, even though he was ninety-percent sure she was just teasing him at this point, “stop.”

“Sorry, Peter,” May said, but her wide grin and smug tone indicated she was not sorry in the least.

 

* * *

 

Valentine’s Day saw Peter nervously pacing around his apartment as he waited for Wade to show up. He’d given Wade the strictest instructions to be there at six-on-the-dot, so why wasn’t he here already?!

Peter paused and glanced at his watch, seeing that it was only five-forty-two. “Oh, that’s why,” he muttered before resuming his pacing.

At five-fifty-seven, Peter lost all semblance of patience and decided to poke his head out of the front door of his apartment to try and hear Wade climbing the steps, but as soon as he cracked the door open he spotted Wade sitting criss-cross against the wall opposite his door, wearing tight, dark jeans, and an equally tight, drawn hoodie. He looked edible.

“Oh, hey, Petey!” Wade said brightly, stretching out his legs and gracefully standing. “You’re early!”

 _“You’re_ early,” Peter scoffed, somewhat childishly, his nerves a little frayed. “Why were you sitting out here? You could’ve come inside.”

“You said six sharp, I didn’t want to be presumptuous, or ruin anything,” Wade said hesitantly, and it hit Peter that maybe, _just maybe,_ Wade was as nervous as him.

“Presume away, Wade,” Peter took a deep, calming breath and smiled as he reached out to take his hand. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

Peter gently dragged Wade into the apartment, pausing only to close the door behind them before sweeping him into a soft kiss. Peter stood on his toes and cupped Wade’s neck inside the hood, dragging him down a little so their lips could meet.

“Hey,” Wade whispered, when Peter pulled back a little.

“Hi,” Peter grinned in return.

“Is that—? Do I smell Mexican?” Wade asked, peering over Peter’s shoulder towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, I, uh, I made tacos for dinner? I thought, y’know, you love Mexican food, so…” Peter said, grimacing at how awkward he sounded.

“You went grocery shopping for ingredients other than bread and ramen, and you cooked for me?” Wade asked, his tone half-teasing, half-awed.

“Yeah, well,” Peter shrugged, stepping away from Wade to go and serve their meal, “don’t get too excited. It’s been a long time since I’ve cooked a full meal on my own. It’ll probably be terrible.”

“Oh, Petey, _no,”_ Wade said from behind him, sounding wounded. “No Mexican food is bad food, and no food you make could ever be bad!”

“We’ll see,” Peter chuckled, turning around with two plates loaded with tacos. He almost dropped them when he saw Wade had taken off his hoodie and was now wearing only a grey Henley that looked painted-on, and those sinful jeans that made Peter’s palms sweat. “Right, uh, so here’s the food,” he said, unceremoniously dropping the plates on the table before grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge. Wine would’ve been more romantic, but beer just goes better with Mexican, alright?

“Thanks, Petey-Pie, this looks amazing!” Wade said, taking a seat at the table, and waiting for Peter to join him before starting to eat.

They ate in relative silence for a few moments, before Wade started his mile-a-minute chatter, the one-sided conversation relaxing Peter until he was confident enough to chime in once in a while.

Peter suspected that there might’ve been more insight to what he once though of as Wade’s mindless rambling, when halfway through their meal, when Peter had well and truly relaxed, Wade asked Peter about how college was going, and took the metaphorical backseat while Peter ranted about his fellow students’ failure to practice proper lab-safety protocol, and how his experiments had seemed to have stagnated for over a month before finally starting to show signs of improvement.

Wade listened attentively, before admitting he understood very little of the scienc-y stuff, but he liked listening to Peter talk about it. Peter blushed, and opened his mouth to give what would’ve undoubtedly been an incredibly witty comment, but Wade just steered the conversation back to Peter.

“So, have things been improving at _The Bugle?”_

“Well, Jameson’s on leave at the moment, so even though we still have to keep printing to his rubbish standards it’s been nice not having him breathing down my neck the whole time I’m there,” Peter admitted. “I’ll only have to stick it out for a few more months and then I can get a real job in my field of study once I graduate. Or, well, a real internship, I guess.”

“You thinking of doing your masters?” Wade asked, sounding curious, and Peter shrugged, a knot of anxiety balling in his stomach like it always did when he spent too long thinking about his future.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I want to, but at the same time I don’t. If I do my masters, it’ll mean less time out there, helping people for the next four years, but then once it’s over and I get a real job, that pays half-decent money I won’t have to worry so much about cost of living and making ends meet and I can focus on Spider-Man. But if I just finish studying after the four years at ESU then I can focus on helping people now, even if it means being less financially comfortable in the long run…”

“Sounds like that’s been weighing on you for a while, huh?” Wade said gently, and Peter frowned down at his empty plate.

“Yeah, but… it’s kind of a stressor, and probably not the best topic of conversation for a date. Besides, it’s future-Peter’s problem. Let that sucker deal with it,” Peter quipped, silently praying that Wade would let it go.

“Well, when future-Petey is cussing past-Petey for procrastinating big-ass life decisions I’ll be there for hand-holding and binge-drinking purposes,” Wade said brightly, and Peter laughed.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Peter said gently, reaching across the table to trace patterns in the scars on Wade’s hand. Wade smiled and turned his hand over, his fingers curling up to twine between Peter’s.

“So, I made lava cake for dessert,” Peter said after a moment of relishing in Wade’s soft touch, “and then I thought we could just chill out and watch a movie. I know it’s what we do basically all the time, but—”

“No, no, shut your pretty mouth, it’s perfect! Everywhere is so crowed on Valentine’s Day, I’d hate to go out and have to share you with the world,” Wade smirked, and Peter felt his heart flip-flop.

“Okay,” he huffed, “okay, good. Here, let me clean up,” he said, standing and taking the plates over to the sink.

“Wait, no,” Wade said, joining him at the sink, “you cooked, I’ll clean.”

“Oh, uh, I was just gonna dump the plates in the sink and deal with them tomorrow,” Peter chuckled sheepishly, “besides, the lava cake should be nearly done, we’ll obviously need to eat it straight away to get maximum lava.”

“Sure,” Wade replied fondly, “can I do anything?”

“You can pick a movie from my laptop?” Peter offered. “I’ll bring out dessert in a couple of minutes.”

“What’s the password?” Wade asked, and Peter hesitated for a moment.

“Uh, just bring it out here and I’ll login…”

“Don’t you trust me, Petey?” Wade smirked, and Peter felt his cheeks warm.

“Of course I do, it’s just an embarrassing password, okay? I’ll login, and change the password to something easy like Ramen365 and you can have unlimited access to my boring-ass spreadsheets,” Peter shrugged, and Wade laughed.

“Sounds good,” he said, pressing a kiss to Peter’s cheek before moving to the lounge room, such as it was. Peter’s apartment technically consisted of three rooms — his bedroom, the bathroom, and a combined kitchen/living area, however the latter two were separated by an old, threadbare couch. It was unsightly, but still the comfiest piece of furniture Peter had ever owned. Wade returned with the laptop as Peter was taking the cake out of the oven and sitting it on the stove-top.

Peter took the computer and glanced at Wade before typing his password as fast as possible, knowing Wade’s keen eyes were trained on the keyboard.

“Oh, my god,” Wade cackled, and Peter rolled his eyes, “IronSpider69?”

“Shut up,” Peter mumbled, “It was my favourite suit, and the easiest number to remember, okay? It’s been my password for, like, everything since I was seventeen.”

“You have the same password for everything, grandpa? What the hell goes on in that big genius brain of yours, baby boy?” Wade asked incredulously.

“Hell if I know,” Peter shook his head in wonder. He watched Wade return to the lounge room for a moment before up-ending the whole lava cake onto one plate and grabbing the ice cream from the freezer. He scooped almost half the carton on top, and grabbed two spoons before joining Wade on the couch.

Wade had hooked the laptop up to the TV, and set the device on the coffee table within reach so he could lean over and press play.

“What did you pick?” Peter asked, handing one of the spoons to Wade as the old, battered laptop freezes for a moment.

 _“Sleepless in Seattle,”_ Wade shrugged, “you sure have a lot of illegally downloaded media content on your laptop, you hypocritical criminal, you.”

“Please tell me you’re not going to lecture me on internet piracy,” Peter groaned, “weren’t you a literal pirate at one stage?”

“How’d you know about that? That didn’t even happen in this universe,” Wade teased, digging his spoon through the rapidly melting ice cream and into the cake, lava pouring out as the outer layer broke.

The 20th Century Fox logo plays before the camera shows a starry sky. “Wait,” Peter said, Arnold Schwarzenegger’s name appearing on screen, “I thought you said you chose _Sleepless in Seattle?”_

“I thought I did,” Wade frowned, reaching over to check the file. “Yep,” he said, pointing at the name.

“Damn, they must’ve uploaded the wrong file,” Peter sighed as Arnie’s name changed to _Predator._ He glanced at Wade, who was looking at him expectantly. _“Predator_ it is, then,” Peter shrugged with a slight smile, before taking his own bite of cake.

 

* * *

 

They’ve demolished the cake and are lazily making out before the predator even makes its first appearance on-screen, and Peter’s in heaven because Wade was warm, and tasted like chocolate, and his head is a little fuzzy from the beer because he never drinks so he hasn’t quite built up a tolerance.

Wade cupped Peter’s neck with his big hands, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on his jawline, and Peter absolutely melted into his touch, soft sighs escaping his lips as Wade delved deeper into his mouth.

Peter grabbed Wade’s waist and slowly moved from sitting next to him to straddling his lap, their lips never once breaking apart, until Peter hesitantly ground down, and Wade pulled away, a broken sound wrenched from his throat before he buried his face in the junction between Peter’s neck and shoulder.

“So good, Pete,” he whined, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses the the skin revealed where Peter’s shirt is riding a bit to the side.

“Wade,” Peter panted, shifting his hips a little and feeling the drag of Wade’s hardened dick obvious even through two pairs of jeans and at least one pair of boxers. His hands drifted to the the hem of Wade’s shirt, and he braced himself as he began to lift, he knew what would come next, he _knows_ he can’t let himself be disappointed…

Wade gently took his wrists in his big hands and moved them away from his shirt. He moved to sit a bit further back into the couch, and gently lifted Peter off his lap, which, that display of strength would be hot as _hell_ in any other circumstance, but all Peter can feel is a little hurt.

“Sorry, Peter,” Wade sighed, rubbing a hand over his bald head.

“Don’t,” Peter tried, the word catching in his throat. “Don’t apologise. I’m sorry. I — I promise I’ll stop,” he said, blinking rapidly at his lap as his eyes sting and the guilt sets in. “I shouldn’t — I mean, it’s fine, you know, that you don’t w-want me _that way,_ and I don’t want you to — to do anything you would be uncomfortable with, so I’ll stop. I’m sorry Wade.”

“What?” Wade said, sounding confused, but Peter couldn’t bring himself to look Wade in the eye. He felt like the lowest, miserable scum, the kind he tried so hard to wipe off the streets. “Hey,” Wade said, taking Peter’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and tipping his head gently until he caught his eye. “You think I don’t want you?” He asked, something dangerous flashing in his eyes.

“I _know_ you don’t,” Peter said miserably. “And it’s okay. I’m sorry I was a jerk about it, I just thought — I mean, I guess I just read it wrong, but I swear — mmph!” He was silenced as Wade pressed his lips against Peter’s, hard.

“Stop talking,” Wade breathed, his head falling to rest face-down on Peter’s shoulder. “God, you sweet, clever, precious, silly little raindrop… How could you ever think I wouldn’t want you?”

“I—”

“No, no, no, not another word,” Wade groaned, sitting back so he could look Peter in the eye. “It’s not about you, Peter. It’s never been about you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, even before I knew you, even before I knew Spider-Man. I don’t know how or why, but I know it’s just always been you.”

Wade reached up to cup Peter’s face, before swiping his thumbs across his cheeks. “Don’t cry, you beautiful, ridiculous mountain flower, being insecure in my schtick.”

Peter sniffed unattractively, blinking away his tears. “You do want me?” He asked in a small voice.

“Of course I do!” Wade said loudly, causing Peter to flinch. “Sorry,” he said softly. “It seems ridiculous that you could ever think otherwise, but I guess I haven’t been so good at communicating these last few weeks, have I?”

Peter wisely decided to stay silent while Wade gathered his thoughts.

“It’s just,” Wade began hesitantly, “you’re young, and beautiful, and _perfect,_ and I can’t even _begin_ to imagine what you could possibly see in a… a monster like me.”

“You’re not—”

“No, but I am. Inside and out. Maybe — maybe not as much on the inside as I used to be, but any changes I’ve made have been thanks to you. And I like that I’m becoming a better person, and I love that it’s under your influence, but… no matter how much your good heart rubs off on me — heh — your good looks just won’t. I guess I just didn’t want you to see how messy I am, in every aspect of my life,” Wade shrugged, looking at the wall over Peter’s shoulder.

“Now who’s the beautiful, ridiculous mountain flower,” Peter said with a wet laugh. “That’s what a relationship is, Wade. Letting your partner seeing how messy your life is, and having them stick by you despite that. Neither of us would be here, now, with each other if our lives didn’t get incredibly fucked up at some point.”

“Oh,” Wade gasped, pointing at Peter, “you said a bad language word!”

“Only to prove how serious I am, you’ll never heard that kinda language from me again,” Peter promised. “All I’m saying is: I’m glad you’re here. As you are. To me, you’re perfect.”

“Aw, shuddup, you big softie,” Wade said, a hectic blush spreading around the network of scars on his cheeks.

“If you need time, it’s okay Wade. I get that your insecurities won’t just vanish after one heart-to-heart, so take as long—”

“No!” Wade cried, tackling Peter so he was lying on his back along the couch, Wade hovering over him. “Now, I’m fine now, I’m ready! You aired your insecurities, I aired mine, the author built this moment up for — hey, could you check wordcounter.net for me? Five-thousand, three-hundred and fourteen words? ‘So far!’ Are you shitting me?! This was meant to be a quick romantic flick and fuck fic!! — well, let’s just say we should end the evening with a bang.”

“Nope,” Peter groaned, “I think I’m going to have to withhold sex for a week due to that terrible pun.”

“That’s quite a rough pun-ishment, Petey,” Wade grinned, waggling his hairless brow ridge.

“Shut up,” Peter huffed a laugh before reaching up to catch Wade’s lips with his own. He teased the seam of Wade’s mouth with his tongue, and eagerly swept in as Wade opened up for him.

Peter brought his hands up around Wade’s waist before firmly cupping his ass and pulling him down to close the scant few inches of space Wade had been keeping between them.

“You okay down there?” Wade asked, pulling away, slightly out of breath. “Wouldn’t want to squish you like a spider…”

“I’m fine,” Peter rolled his eyes, before looking away as he willed himself not to blush. “I — I like having you on top of me like this…”

“Good, because I need you to be underneath me for _at least_ the next week,” Wade grinned, leaning down and tugging Peter’s earlobe with his teeth.

“God, Wade, I — I need,” Peter whined, bucking his hips against Wade’s, chasing friction against his hard dick. “Please,” he whimpered.

“C’mon, baby,” Wade said softly, rolling off Peter and sweeping him up bridal-style.

“Wade!” Peter yelped, a little off-kilter and a lot turned on.

“Mm?” Wade asked, smiling innocently as he carried Peter to the bedroom, waltzing through the door way like he owned the place. He gently laid Peter on the bed and resumed his place on top of Peter, latching onto Peter’s neck while worked on ridding him of his shirt.

Peter closed his eyes and turned his head to bury his face in his pillow when Wade sat back, his eyes roaming Peter’s naked torso. “Hey,” Wade said, waiting until Peter met his eyes before speaking again. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to hide. You’re so beautiful, Peter Parker.”

“Wade,” Peter moaned, reaching up and tugging at his Henley. He saw Wade hesitate for a moment, and he paused his movements, not wanting to spook him, but Wade just took a deep breath and lifted the shirt off. “God,” Peter said, his hands going straight for Wade’s pecks, his palms gently brushing Wade’s hard nipples.

“Oh, Peter,” Wade breathed, leaning down to suck a mark onto Peter’s clavicle.

Peter let out a soft sound as Wade kissed down his chest, stopping to wrap his lips around Peter’s left nipple while he used his hand to thumb at the right. Peter had no idea his nipples were so sensitive, but he swore he nearly came when Wade grazed his teeth over the nub. “Jesus, Wade,” he breathed.

Wade kissed his way down Peter’s belly, pausing to dip his tongue in Peter’s navel, the tickling feeling causing Peter to squirm and Wade to grin into his abs.

The sight of Wade’s lust-blown eyes looking up at him as he kissed down the v of Peter’s hip and hooked his fingers under Peter’s pant line would be forever implanted in his brain.

“Peter Parker, would you do me the honour of allowing me to suck your dick?” Wade asked politely, and Peter groaned, thunking his head back into the pillow.

“Please, Wade,” he whined, not daring to look down — until he felt Wade tugging at his pants, then all bets were off.

Wade quickly rid Peter of the last of his clothes, and without any further warning, and indication of what was coming, he wrapped his lips around Peter and swallowed him down to the hilt. Peter screamed.

“Wade, Wade, Wade,” he chanted, almost panicking at the sheer pleasure, the wet heat tightening around his dick as Wade swallowed around him. Wade slowly drew back, inching off Peter’s dick until the head slipped out with a wet _pop,_ a string of spittle bowing between Wade’s lower lip and his cock.

“Taste so good, Petey,” Wade rasped, moving down to swallow Peter again, but Peter had to stop him.

“Whoa, wait, w-wait,” Peter choked, struggling to get his breathing under control. “I can’t — I’m a v-virgin Wade, you gotta — if you keep doing that I’m not g-gonna make it to the main event.”

“Oh, god, Peter,” Wade groaned, resting his forehead on Peter’s thigh.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said meekly.

“No, stop doing that,” Wade said, looking sharply up at him. “Stop apologising for shit you don’t understand. You — you can’t possibly want to lose your virginity to a guy like me, Pete, c’mon.”

“No, Wade, _you_ come on,” Peter huffed sitting up, causing Wade to do the same. “I thought we just solved all the insecure bull crap! I know and trust you Wade, there’s no one else I’d rather be with for my first time!”

“You… you sure Peter?” Wade asked. “You gotta be sure. I couldn’t live if I hurt you, or if you regretted this. Couldn’t live with the guilt, okay? But I’d have to. So you gotta be sure.”

“I’m sure,” Peter said quickly, “I promise.”

He pressed a soft kiss against Wade’s lips, before lying back town and grabbing a bottle of lube and a packet of condoms from inside his pillowcase.

“Someone was optimistic,” Wade grinned uncertainly.

“Yeah, well,” Peter huffed, “I was either going to be fucked by you or fucked by myself tonight, so…”

“By yourself?” Wade asked. “You got toys?”

“Lots,” Peter confirmed, keeping his gaze steady, even as he felt his cheeks burn.

“Huh,” Wade said. “I’m gonna need a show-and-tell later, but for now, let’s Marvin Gaye get it on.”

“Wade, no,” Peter groaned.

“Wade, yes,” Wade replied, gently taking the lube and condoms from Peter and placing them on the bed next to Peter’s hip.

“Pants off,” Peter said, crooking his finger in the belt loop and tugging lightly.

“Bossy,” Wade admonished teasingly before climbing off the bed and stripping his pants. No underwear, as Peter suspected. He crawled back onto the bed, nudging Peter’s legs apart before kneeling between them. “Peter if at anytime you—”

“Yes, I know, I can back out, _whatever,”_ Peter huffed.

“No, not ‘whatever’ Peter. If anything feels even slightly wrong, if you don’t like it just a little bit, please, _please_ tell me. I’m trusting you, okay, Peter?” Wade looking at him pointedly, and Peter sighed.

“I promise, okay? I’m ready, Wade, please,” he begged softly.

“Okay,” Wade agreed, grabbing the lube and squeezing a bit onto his fingers, rubbing it around so it warmed up. “Spread your legs a bit more, baby,” Wade shuffled forward, nudging Peter’s thighs apart before lying half on top of Peter and tracing a finger down behind his balls as he softly nibbled Peter’s lower lip.

“Wade,” Peter whispered when he felt his finger slip between his cheeks, pressing the pad lightly against his hole, “Wade, c’mon…”

Wade captured his lips as he pressed forward, his finger sinking in to the first knuckle. Peter let out a breathy sigh, instantly captivated by how much _better_ it felt having someone else — having _Wade_ — touch him so intimately.

Wade gently slid his finger in a little deeper, but Peter was impatient, and he shifted his hips, sinking down in one fluid motion until Wade’s finger was fully inserted.

“God, you feel so good, baby,” Wade groaned, pressing a kiss to Peter’s temple, “so hot and smooth, I can’t wait to be inside you.”

“So hurry up,” Peter tried to snap, only it came out sounding wrecked. He felt Wade grin into his hair before sliding his finger out, dragging it along his inner walls on the way out, before bracing his index and middle finger at Peter’s opening.

Slowly, gently, he slid the two fingers in, kissing Peter’s brow when he unconsciously furrowed it in discomfort.

“So good, Peter, so sweet,” he whispered, giving Peter a moment to adjust before shallowly pumping his fingers in and out for a few minutes, before adding a twist and slight scissoring motion.

“Wade,” Peter groaned, his dick curled up with the tip resting on his stomach, shiny slick of precome marking his skin as Wade brushed his fingers against his prostate. “Wade!” He cried, clenching at the sensation.

“Fuck Petey, okay, one more finger to stretch you, okay baby? Just a little longer,” Wade promised, pressing a kiss to where Peter could feel sweat starting to bead along his hairline.

“Hurry, Wade, please,” he moaned, grinding his hips down as Wade teased his rim with his ring finger.

The feeling of Wade’s textured fingers working him open had Peter’s eyes rolling back in his head, and biting his lip as he tried to hold back the embarrassing sounds clawing their way up his throat.

“Wade, I’m ready, please, I need you,” he begged, looking up into Wade’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Wade breathed, “Yeah, okay.”

He slowly drew his fingers out and opened the box of condoms, and Peter noticed his hands shaking slightly.

“Hey,” Peter said, his chest heaving as he reached out to steady them. “You okay? You can back out too, you know?”

“I’m okay, Petey,” Wade said, sounding wrecked. “I just can’t — can’t believe…”

“I know,” Peter said, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I know.”

Wade took a steadying breath and took a condom out of the pack, his slippery fingers almost fumbling before tearing it open.

“Let me,” Peter said, taking the silicone and gently rolling it over Wade’s dick, getting his first good feel of it. He picked up the lube and dribbled some onto his palm, rolling it around to warm it up before taking Wade’s dick in his hand and pumping him a few times. Even through the condom he could feel the odd texture from the scars, but he couldn’t care less about what they might’ve looked like.

“Peter?” Wade asked softly, and Peter nodded, lying back and spreading his legs enough for Wade to fit his hips and nudge his dick against Peter’s hole.

“Wade, please,” Peter urged, his hips unconsciously thrusting into the air as he tried to get something, _anything,_ to relieve the pressure building within him.

“I gotcha, baby,” Wade said, slowly pressing in.

Peter thought Wade had prepped him pretty well considering how impatient they both were, but the never-ending drag of Wade’s dick filling him was overwhelming. Once he was fully sheathed, Peter gripped his shoulder, and panted out an apology. “Just — just give me a second, Wade.”

“Take your time, beautiful, you’re doing so well,” Wade praised peppering Peter’s face with soft little kisses.

After a small eternity, Peter flexed his hips experimentally and let out a little cry as the head of Wade’s dick nudged his prostate.

“Fuck, Peter,” Wade groaned, slowly drawing his hips back before thrusting in.

“Yes, yes,” Peter moaned holding onto Wade’s shoulders, “fuck me, Wade, come on!”

Wade didn’t hesitate any longer, his hips grinding deep into Peter as he fucked his boy.

“Pete, you feel so good,” he growled, nipping sharply at the column of Peter’s throat before leaving over the spot with his tongue.

They spent what felt like forever filling Peter’s tiny bedroom with soft panting, broken moans, the creak of bedsprings, and lewd, wet sounds, and Peter was lying earlier because _this_ was heaven.

“God, Wade, more, please,” Peter cried, barely getting his hand on his dick as Wade changed the angle and nailed his prostate with every thrust. “Wade! I — I’m gonna—”  
  
“Yeah, baby, come for me,” Wade urged, fucking into him, his thrusts hard and measured. Peter pumped his cock roughly, in time with Wade hitting his prostate, and after a few moments he came, pearly white threads of come splattering up his stomach.

“Wade,” he mewled, clenching hard as Wade lost tempo, and slowed down, shooting into the condom. “Holy shit,” he whispered, his fingers drawing nothing patterns on Wade’s shoulders as the larger man collapsed on top of him, his dick still firmly buried in Peter’s ass.

“Holy shit,” Wade agreed.

“We — I — I mean — y’know?” Peter asked, and he felt Wade press his face into his neck and now.

“Yeah, Petey,” he said breathlessly, “we gotta do that again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, I slumped. Hard. For the past week I’ve been trying to channel my Inner Jake Peralta and opposite-slump by telling myself every day that I pmuls, and I just have to work the case until it’s done (or rather, write the fic — any fic — until it’s finished). So last night I sat down and filled my own damn prompt from way back when I wrote the first work in the series. It’s probably not a deserving follow-up to what was my favourite fic I’ve ever written but it is DONESKI. 
> 
> I have more to come in this series, hopefully without the time gap, but you can expect a Halloween fic sometime next July ;) Leave feedback, love, and prompts! <3 But be gentle because much like Peter this was my first time writing smut for Spideypool. It’s something that I’ve been putting off for well over two years.


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